Another Riddle
by NessaK94
Summary: "A riddle, you are indeed…" and there, the opportunity presented itself. He took her hand in his and turned to face his followers, "Delilah Riddle, welcome to the family."
1. Prologue

Prologue

1942

She was born into a family of witches. Not real witches by any means. They were the sort of people who worshiped the earth, drew from the power of the sun, and danced under the stars and moon. They had no real magic but still they performed their rituals and concocted medicines and potions for the people in their small village. There were people in the village who did not approve of their work – pagans, they were called, and devil worshipers. Perhaps they were, but as the war pushed on times got harder for England and so the devil worshiping didn't stop the people from coming. And come they did – more than ever before. They were seeking comfort and answers and these witches were providing the people with that.

Her hair was black as midnight. Her eyes were a rich brown. These were the traits characteristic of the Full Moon Witches.

She was 16 when her mother and aunts' hearts were struck with fear.

"We can't know for certain," whispered her mother.

"But I saw him coming!" her youngest aunt exclaimed.

"Hush, or the little one will hear," snapped another aunt.

"There is only one thing to do," said the oldest and wisest aunt.

"No," said her mother, "We do not need to resort to such measures. Besides we don't even know if it will work."

This shocked the young woman as they had never shown fear before – even when the towns' people threw rotten fruit at them as they walked to the town centre. They didn't even shed a tear. They walked on proudly with their chins and noses in the air. What could have put them into such a frenzy of hushed whisperings?

Later that evening her mother burst into her room, "Li-Li, quick, make haste, make haste! We must go to the circle tonight."

"Mama, I don't understand. We only go to the circle on a full moon."

"There is no time for questions. We must leave now."

They made their way down the stairs and out into the forest. They walked at a rushed pace for about thirty minutes when they finally reached the circle. The circle was just that – a circle. It was a clearing in the forest made by fallen trees and large triangular stones which formed a perfect circle in the middle of the small forest surrounding their home. Her aunts were already there, standing over a large cauldron in the centre of the circle. They were preparing something with a strong sense of urgency. This worried her. What were they making? What would it do? Who was it for?

"Is it ready sisters?" Her mother called to her aunts.

"Yes dear sister. Bring her here. She should go first."

Her mother gripped her hands tightly and hesitated for a moment before rushing her to the centre.

"Dear Li-Li. Take this cup and drink its contents."

"Mama, I don't understand. What is this for?"

Suddenly the air around them shifted and the womens' eyes darted about the circle. Something ominous was coming and it did not take long for her to realise that it was coming for them.

"Drink it! Now!"

She did as she was told. She choked and spluttered on the thick and oozy substance – somewhere between liquid and solid. But she drank the entire contents of the cup. And then it arrived. Or rather, he arrived.

A cloaked figure stepped into the circle. A young man, judging by his height.

"You can't have it," her mother screamed and then poured the contents of the cauldron out onto the ground. It hissed and sizzled as it spread across the circle.

The hooded figure became enraged and pulled out a long stick from his robe, "Avada Kedavra," he screamed at her mother and she suddenly dropped dead.

Her aunts let out a guttural scream as she stood there senseless. What had she just witnessed? Her mother killed by a cloaked villain with a stick! It must be magic. Some other kind of magic…

One-by-one her aunts dropped to the ground – dead. Lastly, he pointed his weapon on her.

"You will tell me how to make this potion," he demanded.

She stood there, dazed and in shock.

He quickly grew impatient, "Tell me or you will die!"

She had meant to tell him that she could not make the potion and that she didn't even know what it was but the spluttering had begun again. She could not speak. Something was happening to her. Something inside of her was turning her blood to ice. She let out a cry of pain.

Finally giving into his impatience he said, "Avada Kedavra."


	2. Chapter One: Another Riddle

Another Riddle

1996

"Get off me!" The man screeched, "Let me go! I would never betray him," he trembled. "He is my lord!"

Eight men in black cloaks led the struggling man into the centre of the clearing and pushed him down onto his knees. He suddenly stopped squirming and went quiet as at that precise moment a black smoke-like substance appeared. The smoke started to shift and untwine into a man. The man was tall and wore a black hooded cloak. The hooded figure appeared to slither as he walked towards the man. The men in cloaks bowed their heads fearfully and stepped away from him to form a circle around the pair. The hooded man stopped in front of the man. An eerie silence washed over the forest. After a pregnant pause, the hooded figure slowly lifted two spider-like hands to his head and pulled back his hood revealing a whiter than bone face. His eyes, like angry slits, could be seen from any distance as they burned red like fire. On first glance, it appeared that he had no nose. However, if one looked close enough, although the prospect of that was utterly terrifying, they would see two slits for nostrils.

"Other than my whereabouts, what information did you share with the Order?" the man-snake hybrid said in a high-pitched voice.

The man suddenly lurched himself at him and desperately clung to his robes, "I would never betray you my lord. Please, you have to believe me," he snivelled.

"Silence!"

Lord Voldemort usually delighted in his victims' grovelling and long-forgotten dignity. However, the consequences of this man's betrayal proved almost catastrophic and severely set back his plans. The man suddenly stopped talking; however, continued to grovel and sob.

"Look at me." The man did not lift his face but continued to sob.

"How dare you defy me? Look at me!" Voldemort shrieked.

The man noticeably jolted and quickly looked up. Voldemort locked eyes with him. After a moments pause, he snickered and clapped his hands together. He turned to face his followers, standing in a circle around him.

With excitement in his voice he said, "I have good news. The Order knows nothing more of our plans."

The man on the ground gradually stopped sobbing and noticeably became more at ease at his master's change of mood.

"However," and the man froze in place. "Today's betrayal must not go unpunished." He looked down at the man on the ground and said, with a most-sickening smile, "I must make an example of you."

The man's face paled and without a moment's hesitation, Voldemort pulled out his wand and cried, "Avada kedavra!"

And the man dropped dead.

Voldemort turned to take his leave but suddenly stopped when he saw her. He had almost missed the lone girl standing amongst the trees as her hair and complexion were as white as the snow that covered the forest floor and frosted the leaves of the trees. Had she worn pale clothing the girl would have gone entirely unnoticed. However, her stricken expression caused by the horror she had just witnessed could be easily seen now. As if sensing her presence with a pack-like mentality, his followers all turned to face her.

"Get her," he hissed.

The death eaters started to advance on her, some disappeared with a loud crack and others ran at her. Loud cracks sounded behind her, and to her astonishment, they reappeared cutting off her only route of escape. She felt a sharp pang of fear and froze in place. Never before had she seen something so wonderful and frightening. She decided that she had better cooperate with them. The death eaters were startled when she began to lift her arms in surrender and sharply pointed their wands at her. One of the death eaters savagely directed a spell at the girl, who closed her eyes and balled up her fists waiting for whatever damage the spell would inflict. However, no pain came. She quickly opened her eyes to see that the death eater had pulled off their hood, revealing that they were female. The woman had sallow skin, black tangled hair, wild eyes, and wore an incredulous expression. Her expression quickly turned to rage and started hurling hexes and curses at the girl who just stood there with a fearful and quizzical expression. The bewildered death eater had given up on hexing the girl and pulled out a knife, looking ready to throw it when Voldemort intercepted.

"That is enough Bella."

The death eater stomped her foot with a 'humph,' but obeyed her master.

His face appeared apathetic; however there was no mistaking the wonderment in his eyes as they quickly examined her.

Her hair and skin were indeed as white as snow. Perhaps even translucent. Her eyes were as silver as the reflection of moonlight on water. Her lips were like a plump succulent peach that beckoned men to break its surface so as to reach its seductively sweet juice. Everything about the girl demanded every man's attention. However, no man would dare touch her, for magic that seemed so tangible, rippled from her in waves it made his skin tingle and buzz. She was a quiet creature, yet her presence was striking.

"Come child. I wish to speak with you."

With downcast eyes she stepped toward the snake-like man.

"What is your name?"

"Delilah."

Delilah who? Surely he knew her family.

 _With such a pale complexion she must be a Malfoy._

However, he could not be certain.

 _But no Malfoy's blood has ever reeked of such purity as her's._

"Have you no family name, Delilah?"

"I have no family, sir," was her soft reply.

 _An orphan, no doubt. However, I wonder…_ he attempted to reach her gaze but her eyes were downcast.

"Everyone has a family or a relative of some sort. And you will call me your Lord," he added in a manner one would call gentlemanly if they had not known better.

"Please pardon my phrasing," the girl apologized and continued to stare at the ground.

He watched as she seemed to search the ground for an explanation, "There is no family left in which I belong to."

Delilah suddenly paused, and considered whether she had shared too much. She simply concluded, "I have no name."

 _There is something more to this story,_ he thought. It would have been far simpler to say her family died soon after her birth and that no one else wanted her, or that she was abandoned and so her origins were unknown. However, she did not say these things. Her wording seemed too particular to him. If only he could see into her mind…

"Look at me, child. What is your birth name?"

After a moment's pause, sadly she answered, "My memory fails me."

 _How curious._ Never had there been a witch nor wizard, save one, who had the skill to keep Lord Voldermort from searching their minds, let alone a child. How is it, a person could not remember their own name, especially one as young as this girl? _There is more complexity to this 'Delilah' than I first thought._

"If you no family, then why are you not in school? Surely the orphanage is missing you."

Her eyes darted away at his mention of the word 'orphanage' and the action did not escape his notice. _It seems that is a subject she'd rather avoid,_ he deduced.

"I have not been in school for quite some time, sir."

"You will call me your Lord," he snapped.

"I will call you what you are," she looked down.

 _How peculiar. The girl appears to be in her teenage years and yet does not attend school. Surely the orphanages of this day would not allow such insubordinate behaviour_.

He continued his line of questions, "And why, I ask, are you not in school Delilah?"

"It has become…" her eyebrows knitted together and her lips lightly pursed as she hesitated on her choice of word, "repetitive."

"If school does not interest you, then what does child?"

After a moment's thought she raised her head and replied, "Life, death, immortality..."

 _A common interest! But why would one so young be concerned with such matters, let alone understand such matters?_

"Those are peculiar things to ponder, and at such an age as yourself. What have you learned?" he was eager to know.

"So many clutch onto the remains of their withering lives and desperately try to escape the grasp of death's hands," her tone was sombre and subtly regretful, "I have learned that it is far better to accept that death is coming and to welcome it like an old friend. It is far more appealing to me now than it was so many years ago," her voice faded as she stood there, lost in memories from another life.

Lord Voldermort marvelled at her conclusion. It was a foolish opinion, and yet to receive an answer such as this from a child astounded him to say in the least. He did not agree with her, but something about the way she held herself and her tone when she spoke made him believe that her words were true. He started to question his view on death – but only for a split second, in which he quickly ignored the thought and carried on with his queries. There was definitely more to this girl and more than what she was sharing with him and his company. ' _Many years ago,'_ she had said. _Many years ago…_

"How old are you, child?"

"I do not know."

"What do you mean, you don't know?" He asked, incredulous. "Were you never told your birth date?"

"I once knew," she said softly, more to herself.

"Then why don't you know?" He asked slightly exasperated.

She answered, "Because I do not remember."

He threw his hands in the air. His patience had finally wore thin and he exclaimed with hands raised in the air, "How could one forget one's age, or date of birth?"

 _Why can't I enter her mind? She is a mere child! Her mind is closed, but not like an occulmens'. Her mind is different. Her guards are not like walls or locked doors, but are more elusive, like as if there's nothing even there! I cannot see anything. I cannot decode these cryptic statements without at least a thought!_ The thought disturbed him greatly.

He started to pace back and forth – a tick of his when he felt no control over a situation – a vulnerability he would normally never display before his death eaters. But he was desperate to uncover this girl's mystery, as if unlocking her secrets would shed light on his own predicaments; as if her mysteries, once solved, would somehow preserve him. His ears appeared to steam and his death eaters were growing anxious from their master's growing rage.

"Dates were not important to me back then," she murmered.

His pacing stopped abruptly and he looked at the seemingly young girl in front of him. He carefully approached her and with his hand gently tilted her chin up so that he could look into her eyes. He attempted to perform legilimens on her, but her mind remained blocked; empty. Frozen there, he considered the significance of her statement. _She has the body of an adolescence, but she must be older, many years older, otherwise she'd be able to at least state her estimated age – what with today's modern technologies, surely she would have been informed if that were indeed the case. That, or her memories have been tampered with. There is no way to be certain at the present time._ At the conclusion of his pondering he felt an icy liquid touch his hand and realized the girl had shed a tear. His initial reaction was to wipe it away but he halted his movement when it suddenly occurred to him that tears should be warm, but that would be further examined later. All he was concerned with at that moment was the possibility of having a prolonged life, and perhaps even the possibility of achieving true immortality. Another means had become necessary after his first horcrux was destroyed. His horcruxes had functioned the way they were supposed to, however, proved themselves to be unreliable should they come face-to-face with none other than a tousled haired, skinny, unbathed, foolish twelve year old boy who was known world-wide by in the wizarding communities as 'the boy who lived.' _This girl might have what I seek._

"Do not cry, my child. You will come with me to my home where you will be fed and given refreshments."

"Thank you, sir."

He paused and gazed intently into her eyes, "You are to call me your Lord, child," he reminded her mercifully, which was very much unlike Lord Voldermort.

She returned the gaze and whispered in reply, "You are not my Lord, sir."

He did not expect such a response, in fact he did not expect a response at all. Men of brawn would cower at his presence alone, but this girl who didn't even reach the height of his shoulders outright refused his demand. She did not speak with the stubborn air of a child, but with authority and finality – a remarkable thing to see from a child. But he knew there were more years to her than what her body depicted. But, just how many years he did not know.

"A riddle, you are indeed…" and there, the opportunity presented itself.

He took her hand in his and turned to face his followers, "Delilah Riddle, welcome to the family."


End file.
